by Lisa Hill
‘Since yesterday. I told him I’d gone on holiday when I was staying in hospital.’
‘That is typical you, Edward; having to take charge of every situation.’
‘And I’d say that was the pot calling the kettle black.’ He winked.
They both smiled and, in that moment, she forgave him for all his nasty behaviour in the past; it didn’t matter now. The poor man was dying. ‘I am sorry, Edward,’ she nodded and batted back tears, ‘I truly am.’
He grimaced. ‘Thank you. That is really why I’m here; to right my wrongs, make my peace, whatever you want to call it.’
She took a deep breath and nodded.
‘I’ve already explained and apologised to Rebecca.’
‘What?’ Pamela’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You went to see her before me?’
‘Oh, I thought we’d moved on with Jack now?’ He raised a playful eyebrow.
‘Oh, you! You always do this; even in the face of death you come back and gain the upper hand!’ She was half cross and half elated at the witty banter they were having which they hadn’t shared in so long. Not all of their marriage had been terrible, especially if you ignored his extra marital affairs.
He laughed. ‘I’m here now! I’ve come to put a proposal to you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Let’s forget the divorce.’
Pamela’s mouth dropped. Jack was not going to like this news.
‘Within a year, I won’t be here; I’ll just leave everything to you, and you can leave it to James and Drew when your time is up.’
She raised her hand to her chest. ‘Oh, don’t talk like that; I hope I’ve got a few years in me yet.’
Edward pursed his lips. ‘So did I.’
It was her turn to grimace. She bit her bottom lip. Should she tell him?
‘What?’ he asked. ‘In a massive rush to get divorced, were you?’
‘You were the one who sent me divorce papers first!’
‘Ugh,’ he sighed and raked his hand through his silver fox locks. ‘I know; out of spite really when I got frustrated, knowing you and Jack had moved in together. I didn’t know then that my cancer was terminal.’
Pamela winced at the ‘t’ word. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, almost ashamed that she had yet to enquire about his physical health.
‘Remarkably well for someone who’s been told they’re imminently going to die.’ He smiled, a genuine smile; not something seen on Edward’s face very often. He folded his arms. ‘So, what do you say?’
She bit her bottom lip again and took a deep breath. ‘Trouble is, Jack and I have already booked the church to marry in September.’ She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. She opened them again to see Edward creased up double.
‘Bloody hell, Pam, you don’t waste your time, do you? I reckon it’s too many years of living with me!’
And, with that, they both dissolved into laughter which quickly broke into sobbing tears; hers and Edward’s.
Chapter Forty-Two
James was surprised to see Rebecca in her dressing gown at just gone seven, when he called at her cottage that evening. Desire grew in his heart and trousers as he wondered if she had decided to skip supper in the pub and move onto the main event.
‘Come in,’ she said solemnly, not looking alluring, but more like bloody furious.
‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ he asked, trying to explain the dressing down and the pouty lips, deep down knowing the real reason.
She walked into the living room before turning on him, her loose hair angrily sweeping over her shoulder.
‘You know damn well how I feel, James.’
‘Look,’ he said, raising his hands, trying to head the issue off at the pass, ‘if this is about Dad, I think we should stop this conversation here.’
Her eyes took on a look of wild panic, her expression startled. She pursed her lips and composed herself. ‘You’d better go then.’
‘Hang on, what?’
‘Well, you’re right, I am in a mood about Edward and I regret moving to the bloody sticks and now you’re telling me that you don’t want to talk about him, so that’s fine.’ She shrugged. ‘We won’t. You can just leave now, and I’ll see if I can get out of the contract on this cottage.’
‘What?’ He was totally confused now. ‘Where will you go?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ she said, placing her hands on her hips and pacing up and down on the bare floorboards. Her dressing gown was gaping slightly, revealing her pert breast underneath and he was overcome with desire.
‘Rebecca,’ he said, moving a step forward.
‘James, no,’ she said, holding up her hand and moving away.
‘Rebecca,’ he shouted, ‘I love you!’
She froze.
‘Pardon?’
He tentatively took a step towards her, afraid she would push him away again. But, if he didn’t have her now, he was going to explode. Forget Dad, forget Mum, Jack, Drew, Lottie; anyone who deigned to give an opinion on their relationship. He loved Rebecca, deep down, he knew she had always been his ‘one’ and he couldn’t let her slip away from him again. Not this time.
‘I love you,’ he said, softly.
‘Oh,’ her hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a little sob. ‘Don’t say that, James.’ Her beautiful face, her high cheekbones and her pouty lips all crumpled. She shook her head. ‘It can’t work, not now. Edward—’
‘I don’t want to talk about Dad, or Mum, or any of that shit.’ He edged towards her and took her trembling body in his arms, relieved that she didn’t resist him.
‘We can’t just ignore it, James. Your father is dying.’
‘And he’ll still be dying tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after that and, whenever he’s finally not here anymore, I want you to still be here, with me.’
She looked up at him, her beautiful dark brown eyes frantically scanning his to try and read if he was telling her the truth.
‘In the meantime,’ he continued, smiling, ‘I’m dying with desire.’ He gently slid his hand from her waist down to towards her bum. He saw a flicker of longing in her eyes, something which had been missing every time he’d tried to be intimate with her before now. In a flash she was kissing him fervently, her tongue finding his. One hand reaching up to massage her neck as he kissed her back, his other hand travelled from her bottom, up the inside of her thigh and found she was pantyless under that tantalising gown too.
‘Are you sure you didn’t plan this?’ he said, teasing her with his fingers.
Her legs parted a little wider and she groaned. ‘No, I was going for a bath,’ she said, eagerly pulling at his belt and unzipping his jeans. ‘We really need to talk, James, aahh,’ she suddenly gasped as he reached inside her with his fingers.
‘Not now,’ he said, pushing her onto the nearest sofa.
She untied her gown and there she was; naked, toned, tanned and utterly irresistible. It was going to take all his strength not to thrust himself inside her and explode with all that pent-up desire. She yanked at his trunks and smiled as he revealed himself, standing to attention, ready to go.
She grabbed him and he moaned, trying to pull his t-shirt off. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed her. He leant his hands over the top of the sofa, straddling her and enjoyed the sensation as she softly stroked his stomach with one finger, trailing down to play with him again.
‘God, I’ve wanted you so much,’ he said, kissing her neck, allowing her to tug on him as she opened her legs wide.
‘Me too,’ she whispered in his ear, between kisses.
‘I do love you, Rebecca, you do know that.’
‘I love you, too.’
He stopped, pulled back and looked down at her.
‘You do?’ he said, a beaming smile spreading across his face.
‘Of course, I do!’ she grinned, ‘but you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.’
He looked into her eyes, full of adoration, and knew it was going t
o be okay; they could face everything together. But for now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. He kissed her again, as she guided him inside her and they both let out a groan of pure pleasure mingling with relief.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jack double locked the back door to the stores and with a heavy heart heaved his satchel bag onto his shoulder, before making his way up the garden and into Back Lane. Every night this week he had turned left and walked along the back of the pub, hooking up with the High Street where he would cross over, into Vicarage Lane and up to the Old Rectory. Hesitating this quiet, Thursday evening, he was drawn to his right and found himself walking in the opposite direction, crossing the York Road, into Church Lane. He wasn’t sure what was leading him to go this way, but he didn’t feel he’d have to prick his conscious too hard to discover the reasons why. It may have been another hot summer’s week in Yorkshire but since Edward had delivered his grave news on Monday, the atmosphere at The Old Rectory had been rather frosty. Pam had not been impressed to discover she was the last one to find out about Edward’s fate and she’d been distant all week. Jack was pretty sure she was building up to calling off the wedding. It was his own fault; he should have got that ring sorted by now. He’d considered finding time this week to nip into Harrogate and find one, but the work at the stores was so demanding and he’d pretty much been working alone while Audrey covered the tearooms. Pam hadn’t surfaced at all to help today and, dead on her feet by mid-afternoon, Jack had sent Audrey home and called Lottie to assist with the late afternoon shift. If Lottie felt the need to complain she had bitten her tongue and said nothing, allowing her silence to speak volumes on how she felt about Pamela’s lack of support; but Jack had been stupid enough in offering to help Johnnie out, without consulting Pam first.
Jack slowed a little as he passed Church Cottage where Drew and Lottie’s cars were neatly parked.
No sign of Edward’s.
Next door, the upstairs windows of his old home, Church End, were flung open where Audrey was obviously trying to air the bedrooms on this balmy summer’s evening, before bedtime. What he would give to stop here and unlock the front door to the welcoming sound of Sky’s skittering claws on the floorboards, as she rushed to greet him. The church gate creaked as he swung it open. He smiled as he reached Mary’s headstone and, without hesitation, found himself sitting down on the dry, yellowing, grass verge.
‘I’ve ballsed-up this time love, no doubt about it,’ he said, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. ‘Pretty sure Edward’s been with Pam all day. I shouldn’t have offered to help Johnnie and Louise, but how was I to know that slippery eel would return the same week and with such momentous news?’
He looked down the garden of the Old Rectory, through the kissing gate. The sun was setting, and all the large, arch windows were bathed in blazing sunlight. It almost looked as if the house was on fire.
‘Trouble is,’ he said, exhaling loudly, ‘I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor bastard. I wouldn’t wish cancer on my worst enemy.’ He looked down at Mary’s name, emblazoned in gold letters, shining back at him. It had been a hard few months towards the end of her life when the breast cancer had finally started to spread around the rest of her body. Her physical pain made him feel so helpless when she cried out because it hurt just to even move her body.
‘Trouble is, do we believe him?’ he paused, imagining what Mary’s expression would be, if she were here. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that; Lottie’s wary too. Yes, I know; like father, like daughter. But she has a point; it’s all very convenient.’ He stood up and dusted down his trousers down. ‘Best face the music, I suppose. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you this week; duty calls. I’ll come and update you tomorrow,’ he said, turning and walking towards the kissing gate, overcome with that foreboding feeling again which had made him walk the long way home.
Pamela stirred the saucepan of passata on the hob and watched the linguine boil away in the larger pan next to it. Her anxiety was fizzing and bubbling up like the water in the pot. She took another deep breath and looked up at the clock, above the archway through to the conservatory.
‘Stop fussing, Pam; it won’t make it cook any faster.’ Edward flicked out his newspaper before turning the page.
How had this all happened? On Monday he’d told her he was dying, on Tuesday he’d called again to see if she’d made a decision about dropping the divorce, yesterday he’d taken her out for lunch, for old time’s sakes, at which point she’d somehow taken leave of her senses and agreed with him that it would make sense for him to stay at the Old Rectory, as Lottie and Drew were short of space. She hadn’t thought any more of it until quicker than you could pronounce metastasized cancer, Edward had arrived on the doorstep this morning, with all his belongings, and ensconced himself in the first-floor guest bedroom.
And none of this she had managed to run by Jack.
The truth was she had taken all her frustrations about Edward out on Jack. She had made it Jack’s fault that he knew about Edward being back before her and she’d blamed him for being unsupportive as he’d agreed to look after the stores this week. But it wasn’t Jack’s fault that Edward had his feet under the table, so who was she going to blame when Jack walked through the door this evening? But what was she supposed to do? This was Edward’s home.
And Edward was dying.
She glanced at the clock again. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her that Jack was arriving home later and later this week either. She watched Edward take a sip of the claret he had taken from the cellar and opened half-an-hour ago. The bottle was now over half empty.
Apparently, cancer, nor its medications, were affected by alcohol.
‘You look like you’ve never been away,’ she said, through gritted teeth, still feeling panicky about what Jack was going to say about all of this. She took the wooden spoon from the saucepan and went to place it on the spoon stand, but dropped it and instead watched passata splat all over the quarried kitchen tiles.
‘Now I’ve unpacked and relaxed, it doesn’t really feel like I’ve ever been away.’ He looked up at her and smiled. One of those genuine ones again. Perhaps he actually was dying; all their married life any smile he’d produced was usually more of a smug smirk. ‘It was cramped staying at Drew’s; I had to share Ant’s room and he wasn’t that enamoured about the situation either. This makes far more sense.’
‘Only, I’m not sure what Jack’s going to make of it,’ she said, fetching a floor cloth from under the sink to wipe up the tomatoey mess up.
‘Say about what?’
She turned to see Jack standing in the archway to the conservatory, looking weary after a long day at the stores, his checked shirt all askew where his satchel bag was pulling at his shoulder. But he still looked a hundred times more handsome than Edward, with his natural tan from gardening and his uniform, gelled back, greying hair.
Edward lowered his newspaper. ‘Me,’ he said.
Jack nodded. If he was angry or upset, he wasn’t letting it show.
‘Hello, Edward. Sorry to hear about your news.’
‘Cancer, Jack. It’s cancer.’
Pamela could sense from the tone of Edward’s voice he was trying to goad Jack.
Jack nodded again. ‘Insidious disease.’
Edward flicked his newspaper. ‘Of course, you know all about it with Mary, but you’ve never suffered yourself, have you?’
Jack shook his head, keeping eye contact with Edward. The pair looked like a couple of alpha lions, sizing up to one another.
‘True, but as Mary commented many times, it’s the loved ones who suffer the longest.’ He looked at Pamela, his face full of sympathy.
She smiled, relieved he didn’t look cross.
‘You ready for that, Pam?’
Pamela frowned. ‘I,’ she hesitated. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Jack?’
Jack rested his weight on one hip. ‘Well, I take it, he’s—’ he cocked his head in Edward
’s direction, ‘—moving in here?’
‘Yes, Pam was kind enough to offer and I’ve burdened Drew and Lottie for too long already,’ Edward crooned.
Jack pursed his lips together. ‘Ever heard of a hotel?’ he said to Edward, keeping his gaze fixed on Pamela.
‘No place for me, not in my condition,’ Edward snapped.
‘So, I ask again,’ Jack said, his eyes permanently fixed on Pamela. ‘Are you ready for this?’
‘Ready for what?’ She was totally confused.
‘Caring for a dying cancer patient?’
‘What?’ It hadn’t occurred to her that that was what she was signing up to by offering Edward a room. ‘I’m not doing that!’
‘Well,’ Edward blustered, ‘we did discuss there would be no need for a divorce if I moved back in here and saw my days out.’
Pamela’s face gathered like a swarm of angry storm clouds. ‘No, we didn’t!’ she shouted. ‘You suggested we didn’t bother with a divorce so that everything came to me and I finally left it to James and Drew. I didn’t know that meant I had to revert to being your wife and caring for you until the end!’ She was so angry, she’d picked up the wooden spoon and was now flailing flecks of passata all over her cream kitchen cupboards.
‘Wedding’s off then, is it?’ Jack’s words cut through the air like a sharp knife.
Pamela gasped. ‘No, Jack, don’t think that! I haven’t agreed to any of this yet!’ she rushed around the kitchen island to stand by Jack. Looking up into his normally welcoming, crinkly eyes, she could see how dull and sad they looked.
‘Then why,’ Jack pointed in the direction of Edward, ‘is he sitting with his feet under the table, drinking half a bottle of claret?’
Pamela closed her eyes. She had no-one to blame for this but herself.
‘Face it, Jack; it makes sense. Not that I particularly want you benefitting from all my hard work over the years by living here after I’m gone, but at least that way the boys get everything.’
Jack turned to face Edward, legs apart, shoulders back, like Burt Lancaster walking into the O.K. Corral.